


Craving

by Arsenic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-11
Updated: 2006-09-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Challenge: any character, any fandom, Indian food





	Craving

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hpshortfics

Hermione said, "Go," managing to infuse it with just enough imperiousness that it was not purely whiny.

Severus would have found himself the one woman who could weather pregnancy-caused insanity with a dignity that drove him absolutely to the edge. "Hermione-"

"I don't give two figs about you and your rules and your limits, if you don't get out of this house and get me some Khorma I'm going to have this child right here on your bloody ancestral rug."

"That rug is nowhere near ancestral."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Severus cursed himself for allowing her to pick up on that habit. "You know what happens when I go into Muggle society."

"They flee in terror and you get to jump ahead in queue? Yes, it's a bit like going out with you in wizarding society. Also, as a side note, why I married you. I abhor waiting on queue."

"There's always-"

"The Ministry hasn't bothered us since the last time they tried that."

Severus would give her that. They had made the mistake of sending some rookie Auror to treat with his four months pregnant wife and he very much doubted they'd be repeating that one. Which only meant that the next time would mean more trouble. At the moment, he figured her to be roughly the match for a full-sized dragon. Or two. Or one mated with a manticore. Which all meant that he was going to lose this argument and if he had any sense he would give in with grace.

She hadn't married him for his sense. "The house elves can make a perfectly good-"

"The house elves have the night off, which you've clearly forgotten, and even if they didn't, they're horrid at anything that involves spices imported from a radius further than twenty miles. So unless _you_ plan on making the khorma, you'd best be scraping up the change I carefully counted out for you so that you wouldn't have to dig into your long lost memories of the shockingly and disconcertingly logical Muggle currency system, and flitting off to Ravi's."

"I do not flit," he said lowly, in a voice that had once made her quiver and stare at him even more proudly and defiantly than before, but now only effected a rolling of her eyes. He sighed.

As he was tucking the change into his pocket she said, sweetly, "Don't forget the nan."

"Or the Kulfi," he groused. " _My_ memory isn't slowly disintegrating, along with everything else between my ears."

"It's your offspring that's causing the brain damage, just think about that."

"He has more sense than I do."

Hermione grinned. "Oh, I find you eminently sensible."

He turned to scowl at her, only to find that she, clever chit of a girl, had moved close in behind him, so that his hand brushed along the hard curve of her belly. He said, "You aren't worth it," but he didn't move his hand, and she nodded, her eyes soft and pleased.


End file.
